Falador's Fight
by Oukar
Summary: The Black Knights have gone too far this time. Now, a band of adventurers must combine forces. Each with their own reason, they stand together to face Falador's greatest enemy. Who is truly behind this tyranny, though?
1. Chapter 1: Nero's Story

_**Author's Note: This is the first chapter of what I hope to be a successful story. It's also my first submission, but I certainly hope you all enjoy it. **_

**Note: All characters are fictional. Runescape and all related content is copyright of JaGEx**

The horn blared into the moonlit night, stirring the castle into frenzy and confusion. Were they under attack? Was it another false alarm? Lazy and inefficient, most of the guards remained asleep as the sirens sounded, ringing throughout the fortress in a furious howl. Merely a minute later, the fuss was over as the alarms were silenced. A beautiful quiet atmosphere returned to the air, as those that had bothered to awaken cursed their luck, as they rolled back between the sheets of their makeshift mattresses. Everything fell silent, and only footsteps were heard. Sentries, scouting the halls, step by step, in an even pace. There was another set, however. Much faster. Running.

"You bastard!" The doors of the great hall slammed open, as the Commander's Black Knight squad rose, readying their broadswords. Though dark as it was, the candles illuminated the room just enough to make out the young man's figure in the darkness. He dashed forward, dagger unsheathed. The knights charged toward him, spread thin. With a sudden rush, he threw the dagger forward. In a sharp movement, it pierced through the first knight's armor with a terrible squelching noise. The rush of speed made the candle's light dance, before leaving the room in darkness. The only sound was that of the fallen knight's armor clanking against the stone floor. One down, three to go.

The knights remained attentive, holding position. Footsteps, again, but only those of the useless sentries. The situation had quickly become troublesome. The peaceful quiet returned, footsteps halted. Blade against metal screeched, filling the air, as the young man drew his dagger from the fallen warrior. Darkness remained, as the footsteps resumed, growing nearer. In the faint darkness, the nearest knight had made out a figure of a suit of armor approaching. "That you, Spencer?" A questioning hum came from behind, just enough to catch the second knight's attention, before the dagger took action again, impaling his shoulder, and striking him to the ground. The one apparently known as Spencer gasped, frightened and trembling. Two down, and two remained.

"Where is he?" The young voice broke through the air, and both knights immediately readied their weapons. "Don't make me ask again," he threatened. His fingers snapped, and a small fire lit between the remaining knights. At that moment, they realized that he was a mage, and more importantly, that this was their chance. They both charged at the flame, swinging their swords overhead in unison. The slashing of metal was all he needed to hear to know their fate. Another snap of the finger, and the candles around the room were lit once more, revealing the terrible sight before this young magician. The two knights were now dead, each with their heavy blade impaled through the helmet, into the skull of the other. The horrific scene had touched even this assailant. Out of the goodness of his heart, he offered a small prayer and blessing to each of the four knights he had inadvertently murdered. As his tribute and offer were finished, he felt a holy presence within himself, as a God had found it in himself to grant favor to him. With a soft smile, he looked to the heavens, through the decorative glass roof, as the clouds passed, revealing moonlight in this darkened throne. His dagger at his side, he now resumed his task, approaching the quarters of the Commander. His steps kept in time with the sentry's rhythm.

He donned his hood as he entered the chambers of the Commander. He didn't care to know his name. There was only one reason that he had even been here, and as soon as the bed came into view, with a snug little lump beneath the sheets, his grip tightened around the hilt of his weapon. In his right hand, his fingers pulled back to his palm, pressing the symbols etched into his flesh. Air, fire, and Chaos. In his hand, emerged a medium-sized fireball. The moment it had been readied, he launched it forward to the bed, dashing straight behind its blazing trail, dagger in hand, as he plunged it into the mound that lay beneath the blazing fabric.

Suddenly, an eruption of feathers filled the air, burning as they fell to the ground. In shock and dismay, the young mage quickly turned around, gasping, as he was pulled into the air with the Commander's hand wrapped around his throat. Choking, gasping for air, he struggled to no avail, as the foul superior raised his hand to his victim's hood, pushing it back with a hideous grin, that soon turned into a disappointed frown.

"Nero... What is the meaning of this treachery?" The commander spoke broadly, his words piercing through the silence like a knife through butter. The cold gaze on his face remained unchanging as he set the boy down.

"Let me go!" Nero flailed as he was released, stumbling backwards. "You killed them all. Every last one of them. There was no fire, you bastard!" His words were fueled with a fire of spite, hatred, bitterness. "You lied to me. You're nothing but a--"

He was quickly interrupted by a harsh strike to the face which sent him flying to the ground. The commander loomed over Nero, smirking devilishly as he drew his longsword, holding it against the boy's throat. "So I killed them. It doesn't matter, now, Nero. You're one of us, now. A true Black Knight. Doesn't that make you feel wonderful? To work for such a glorious cause, with us, as our first Dark Mage? Don't be so foolish as to throw your life away."

In anger, Nero shoved his arm against the blade, slashing his robe in the process. He stood to his feet, backing away as he bled upon the floor. He faced this Commander once more, spitting in distaste at his feet. "I will never accept this as my home.. And you will never replace my family." His left hand moved, as the dagger from the bed drew from the fluffy mess, aiming, and darting forth into the vulnerable backside of the Commander. With an agonizing scowl of pain, the Commander roared, as Nero backed up further, stumbling to the floor as he bumped against the wall.

The guards and sentries rushed towards the Great Hall, gathering together as they surrounded Nero completely. He was greatly outnumbered, and in a violent fit of rage, the Commander lashed out at Nero, slashing his face with a deep wound that would be certain to carry, if he made it out of this alive. Immediately, the Knights gathered around their Commander, forcing him back, away from the boy. Despite the attack, they were all bound by the code of Black Knights, and made it a priority to watch over one another. Two of the knights rushed to Nero's side, in panic. His eyes closed, and his pulse began to slow. From his arm and facial wound, blood poured, worsening his condition. He attempted to move, but little was able to be done from his position. As he accepted that this would be his death, he closed his eyes, to enter a deep, eternal rest...

"This is not your time, yet, my child. Take my hand. I offer you another chance." A heavenly voice called to him, and despite his state, he mustered the energy in his mind to answer the voice. As he felt the transcendence of a new life coming to him, his actual body became entirely still.

The Commander had turned away to leave and head to the medical station, but upon hearing the murmurs, he turned around quickly, with a sudden rage, as he pushed past his knights to young Nero. "No... NO!" He cried out in anger, as he leaped at the child. His hands reached around his neck to constrict it, but as he knew, it was of no use, as his hands merely passed through Nero's image. His body was fading, and he was being taken away. He was being reborn, elsewhere, by the hand of Saradomin, no doubt.

"What a pleasant day," the old man said to himself as he passed through the beautiful gardens of Falador. The quacking of a nearby duck gave him a laugh, as he stopped to feed it. As the breadcrumbs flew from his hand, the duck suddenly took off into the air. Animals appeared fleeing from a particular section of the garden, as a thud was heard in the distance. "What... An attack?" Sir Tiffy quickly assembled two of the nearby White Knights and charged into the small forest from which the noise was heard.

As he approached the scene, his eyes caught glimpse of the dark robes and fallen body. He motioned the knights to be ready, as he cautiously walked over. His hand touched the shoulder of the fallen foe, but he did not stir. Unconscious, perhaps? A pulse was there, however, and perhaps it was not the safest of things. He drew his dagger, ready to face the opponent in case of an ambush, and quickly turned the body, prepared to plunge the dagger into his heart, when he froze, mid-lunge, eyes fixated upon the face of this one. A deep scar ran across his cheek, and blood was fairly fresh. However, this was not the cause of his concern. This was merely a child! He motioned for his knights to quickly fetch the nurses and medical attention. They left immediately, leaving Tiffy a moment to look to the skies. A sign had formed in the parting of the clouds above. It was likely that this was the one they had been waiting for, but a child? Of the Black Knights, no less... But something was amiss. Wounds like this were not a simple fall and scrape. Perhaps he would ask.. After the child was healthy. He took a look at the necklace around the boy's neck. Definitely a marking of the Black Knights.

"Nero, eh? Interesting..."

Two nurses quickly arrived, moving him to the stretcher, and hastily making their way back to the castle. Some adventurers accompanied the nurses, intrigued by the situation at hand. Something was bound to unfold from all of this, and Sir Tiffy Cashien planned to be at the head of it.


	2. Chapter 2: Cid's Story

_**Author's Note: Chapters 1 & 2 were released together. Hopefully, chapter 3 will join in the near future. Enjoy.**_

**Note: All characters are fictional. Runescape and all related content are copyright of JaGEx**

_As Nero recovers, we take a look at the life of another simple citizen.  
_

As the crowds gathered above, the scurrying of feet and thudding of boots echoed throughout the caverns below. Indeed, it had been quite a lengthy day, but a quieter one at that. Despite the commotion above, the mines below were relatively empty this day. Of course, the smaller the crowd, the more ore there was available to mine. This was, of course, a wonderful thing for a skilled miner such as Cid.

Another swing of his pick, and a large chunk of coal was knocked from the rock, splitting into two individual pieces. Flexing his muscular arms with a grin, as his body armor adjusted, he was quite grateful to the Monarch of Varrock for this wonderful gift of enchanted craftsmanship. Maybe he'd learn to make further use of its magical properties, one day, he was certain. Another time, another day, perhaps. He securely fastened the sack over his shoulder, approaching the ladder in the cavern's corner. As he began to ascend, his eyes squinted, adjusting to the light above. Cid emerged, followed closely by his full bag of coal. The dwarfs had abandoned their posts, to his surprise. Indeed, something big must have happened. Regardless, it had nothing to do with him, he thought, as he deftly made his way to the bank.

He took notice of the absence of the bankers, as well. Certainly a strange event, but not enough to stop him from his work of professionalism. He untied the sack, and unloaded the coal into the deposit box, entering his information for the automated system's recognition. Nothing quite like the successful chime of a full load of profit. With a hearty laugh, he took his sack back over his shoulder, heading back to the mines once more. On the trek back, he heard the sound of metal armor clanking behind him. Perhaps another lousy adventurer using his wonderfully crafted armor for the simple task of slaughtering chickens. A shame such things went to waste. Without hesitation, he descended into the dark underground once more. The armor followed. Without wait, he lifted his trusty pick above his head, preparing to strike the next coal rock, but he met great force trying to swing it down. As he turned around, one black hand wrapped around the head of his pick, as the other hand of the dark figure struck his temple, knocking him to the ground. Staring up, he was unable to make out the figure, or the two that quickly joined it, side by side. It was too dark. His head was rushing. It was blurred. The clanking of platelegs. "Black..." Before he could utter another word, he collapsed.

Rustling. Shifting. Everything seemed a blur. What had happened... He could not recall. His body seemed paralyzed. His eyes opened, adjusting. As the image came into focus, his other senses came to. Voices. He was at home. His wife was in the corner of their lovely abode. It had been trashed. He attempted to move his arms. Constricted. His feet were off the ground. Pinned against the wall of his own house.. Pain shot through him as he turned to find his own pick lodged into his arm, holding him against the wall, while his other arm was simply held by one of the knights. Before he could speak, a sharp slap to his face was received.

"I'll ask you one more time. Where is he?" The knight spoke in a harsh tone, threateningly. He was apparently the leader of the three. Cid slowly regained control of his legs, but held still, in worry they'd notice and assault him again. "Where is the boy?" He spoke again, but Cid remained silent. After a length of time, he looked up to the Knight, with rage in his eyes.

"I know of no boy."

In rage, the Knight raised his sword to Cid's throat. Cid closed his eyes quickly, hoping for a quick death, but his concentration broke from his Wife's shriek. In the moment the knight had turned around, Cid took the moment to swing his leg up between the knight's legs, hammering him in a most painfully sensitive way. It was certainly his own creation, it seemed. Cid tore the pick from his arm, a bloody mess. With a frenzied swing, the pick was then lodged into the neck of the first Black Knight. As he drew it back, blood began to spurt from the new hole, and with satisfaction, Cid's boot connected to the chestplate, knocking the dying body to its back. He rushed to his wife, assuring her safety, when she screamed again, just with enough time for Cid to swing around, impaling his pick into the side of the next knight, piercing through the armor with ease.

In horror, the third knight took to his legs and ran through the door. Cid quickly gave chase, hunting the knight down as he ran south, scrambling over the city walls. With a great agile feat, Cid took the underground tunnel, heading off the knight. As the knight ran towards him, looking back, Cid held his foot out in front, stepping to the side as the knight tripped, falling to the ground. As he laid face down, Cid stepped down with his powerful foot upon his back, drawing the knight's sword from his side. He kicked the knight to his back, placing his foot upon his stomach as he drove the sword through the knight's chest. As he stared over his foe in triumph, he noticed a smirk, as his last breaths were being taken. His victorious mood was quickly dismayed, when he saw the button and remote held in the knight's hand. Before he could make another move, the knight pressed the button, and a loud explosion came back from inside the walls, blowing through the city, and sending Cid flying forward past the knight, into the dirt.

After picking himself back up, he rushed to the city, wounded as he was, and made his way over the hill to see his home, set ablaze, burning to the ground. The citizens of Falador had gathered upon hearing the explosion, and feeling the powerful sweep of wind from it. In seeing this horrible scene, Cid dropped his pick as he ran to the flaming building, limping as he did. Two white knights charged after him, grabbing his shoulders and restraining him, as he fought their hold nonetheless. He struggled, angered and horrified, watching as the roof collapsed into the house, dropping the structure to nothingness. He looked to the knights, with tears in his eyes, as they understood, hanging their heads in sorrow. Everyone stood, head lowered in respectful silence, as Cid broke free, limping to the wreckage.

Finishing the lengthy trek, the fire had died down as he reached his home. Though injured, he mustered what strength he could to throw wreckage away, until he had found the body of his wife. Charred and hurt as she was, a smile held to her face, as her eyes struggled to open. He hushed her as she attempted to speak, and brought his hand to hers. As she looked up to him, she gave a gentle smile and sigh, holding softly to his hand, before her head laid back, senses dead. Cid embraced her body one last time, sobbing as the life from her body just disappeared. "Damn them.. Damn those Black Knights!" Fighting back tears, Cid tried to remain strong. The citizens remained silent, as some headed back to the castle, tending to the other events unfolding. Cid remained by his wife, until the officials came to prepare her funeral.

Four days later, Cid was sipping a gentle brew of Dwarven Stout in the underground mines with a few chums, when a hand came over his shoulder. He turned around, facing the famous Sir Tiffy Cashien. A smile held to his face, as he presented Cid with his old pick, fixed and cleaned up like new. He laid it in front of Cid, upon the table, with a few words. ⌠Hello, Cid. It seems we both have something to settle with the Black Knights. Will you join us?"

An overwhelming joy swept over Cid, as he grasped the pick in one arm, his other bandaged from the wounds. A tear ran down his cheek, and a smile across his lips, as his grip tightened around the handle. "When do we begin?"


End file.
